Blog 1254 – 02.03.2019
“I Love You, Baby!”
I love this Pinterest Pic and just had to download it so I could try to write another blog about happy I am that I was loved by a daughter. I was only permitted to have one daughter and she for only thirty-two years but my Emily was a peach and no dad could have every wanted or had a sweeter more loving daughter. People are always saying, “You must really miss her” and I know they mean well and would probably not understand the answer that I most want to give, them, “How can I, my heart is and will always be so full of her. She gave me way more and taught me way more than I was ever able to give or to teach her. Miss her, hardly, I celebrate every moment of her life that I got to share and I am sure everyone does who was privileged to know her.” I loved her and wrote poems saying so to her before she was ever born. It was my fondest wish that she never know a moment in her life that she ever felt unloved. But then I am sure like all of us who struggle with loving ourselves, warts and all, that she did. But I hope those moments were few and short lived. She left a legacy of love and caring which causes me to believe that her life, even as short as it was, was still a life full of love.
It breaks my heart when ever I hear a parent, a teacher or anyone berating or underrating a child. It is to me the highest crime and the worst mistake any of us can make. And with that I must add that I believe there is in everyone of us a little child that needs nothing more than to be loved and to be treated with kindness. When you are tempted to unload your frustrations on anyone even yourself remember that person is somebody’s baby.
I hear people talking about “tough love” and that people need to toughen up because it is a hard and cruel world but I think it is just such silly remarks that make it harder and more cruel for everyone. To quote some of ole Paul’s best writing, Saint not Sir:
First Corinthians Chapter 13 reads
“4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love never fails.”
I lift but one attribute of love above to show that most of what we call love is not of this higher better kind but something less. And here it is, “It keeps no record of wrongs.” We are, most of us, tally keepers, always keeping tract of every fault, failure, and the slights anyone makes to our precious Ego. That last line reminds me of the way Gollum, the pitiable creature in The Hobbit and The Lord Of The Rings trilogy by J.R.R Tolkien, is always referring to his missing ring as “My Precious.” Don’t be so hard on ole Gollum though for most of us have been equally dictated to and controlled by our own precious Ego way too much of the time to the hurt and shame of ourselves and others that we should love better than we often appear to.
Love, the best and highest love, takes a quite different road. It is easy to guess those who have found this love. Three clues stand out.
1. They truly love themselves.
2. They love big and have enough to share.
3. And they are kind and caring to even the least.
To that last one, “least” is no word to aptly apply to anyone or anything really. It comes, I am thinking, from more Ego thinking – always putting everyone and everything into some sort of hierarchy. But as the scripture quote above says, love “does not dishonor others.” Fact is, like the Perfect Creator and Parent, Love, loves all His/Her creation and all His/Her children the same.
A couple of months ago I received a bronze looking rendering of a lovely lady that the person giving it to me said reminded her of my mother. I put it high inside the medicine cabinet behind the mirror in my little home on wheels so that each morning when I open that door to brush my teeth, shave, comb my hair and get ready for work I will see it. For some time last thing before leaving I would look in the mirror and say as I am spraying a little cologne on, “I love you” to the image in the mirror. Lately I have been varying that little ritual. Instead as I open the door and see the image of my goddess mom, I say, “I love you, Mom. I love you Dad” and as I close the door and see that handsome fellow staring back at me, I say, “I love you, Baby.” The holy trinity, Mom, Dad, and Me (We). “Baby” is and has been my pet name for myself and everyone I love since my little brother at three, who could not say my name very well, called me that. I can also hear Detective Kojak saying in his sly tootsie pop sucking way , “I love you, Baby.”
And it is my hope that what ever meaning you might derive from my ramblings that above all else you will read between the lines and get this one message that I am always intending to convey, “I Love You, Baby!” from the bottom of my heart to the tip of my still hairy head at sixty-eight. But then all the folks present, past, and future who were and are in the know, including my beloved daughter Emily, also love you too. The One whose love matters most is you. For heaven sake remember in all your loving to love yourself, Baby.
Your friend and fellow traveler,